Never a Substitute
by AuntieClimatic
Summary: Jack Sparrow is in prison, awaiting execution. His final request is to see James Norrington. What occurs is a meeting between two damaged men. Sparrington.


"James Norrington here to see you, Sparrow."

Jack Sparrow looked up from his position on the prison floor. "'Bout time."

The guard rolled his eyes and moved aside from the doorway, so that the man behind him could enter. At the sight of Norrington, Jack finally raised himself off the floor in odd lurching motions and approached the bars of his cell.

"Ah, Commodore!" Sparrow exclaimed in a tone that sounded more like a man running into an old friend on the street, rather than a man on the brink of execution. "I see ya found the place. Had me a mite troubled."

Norrington stood with his hands clasped behind his back and his spin straight. A navy man to the very end.

Norrington raised an eyebrow, "Captain Sparrow, I have not been a Commodore of His Majesty's Royal Navy for going on five years now. As you well know."

Sparrow leered at the implications of that sentence, and looked the man up and down. Norrington had not changed much. A few more lines in the face, a deeper look in the green eyes, but at least that god-awful wig was gone – in Sparrow's opinion it made Norrington look a bit like an overdone desert. Instead his natural brown hair was pulled back by a blue ribbon, and he wore simple civilian clothes. There was still that slight tenseness in those straight shoulders that belied Norrington's carefully crafted bland gaze.

"Civilian life suits you."

"So it would seem."

Sparrow raised an eyebrow. Uh oh, Norrington was annoyed.

"Ensign, may I have a moment alone with my esteemed guest?" Sparrow asked to guard who was standing off to the side, desperately trying to seem as aloof as possible.

The aforementioned Ensign glanced at Norrington for conformation. At his nod, the Ensign frowned slightly, but made toward the prison's exit. Sparrow bobbed his head in thanks, and the Ensign glared.

Once the metal door slammed shut behind the guard, Norrington's shoulders drooped and he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his right thumb and forefinger.

"Did ya miss me?" Sparrow inquired with a golden grin. "I knows ya was sayin' that ya didn't want ta be seein' me ever again, but I figure under the unusual circumstances ya'd be willin' to make an exception."

"God damn you, Jack" Norrington said glancing up. His face was no longer bland, but torn in unspoken pain. "I warned you. I told this would happen some day."

"Aye, that ya did." Sparrow said softly.

"What do you want from me? Do you want me to stage some ridiculous escape attempt? If so your last request should have been to see Mr. Turner." Norrington's voice was bitter.

"But I didn't ask to see Will, did I?" Sparrow grinned ruefully.

"No, I suppose not."

There was an awkward silence while Sparrow gazed at Norrington thoughtfully and Norrington glared at the floor, not meeting Sparrow's eyes.

"The floor's filthy."

"Aye."

There was another awkward pause.

"Why did you ask for me then?" Norrington asked, meeting Sparrow's eyes with a ferocity that dared a lie. Sparrow paused and met the gaze.

"Just wantin' ta be sure there be no bad blood between us. The last time we met, ya did say ya never wanted ta see or hear of me in English waters again."

"And then, as you may remember, I resigned my naval commission." Norrington said in a tone as if Sparrow was clearly not understanding a very simple concept.

Sparrow blinked slowly, and Norrington sighed and went back to rubbing the bridge of his nose.

After watching Norrington for a long moment, Sparrow's eyes widened, "Ye was tryin' ta protect me."

Norrington nodded and bit his lip in a vulnerable movement that spoke sentences.

Sparrow's body sagged against the bars of his cell, and looked closely at the man cross from him.

"Then ya don't hate me."

Norrington shook his head and closed his eyes tightly, every gesture made was one of a man who was bearing an unspeakable suffering. But there was anger in that movement too. Anger that he had been carrying ever since the moment he watched the_ Black Pearl_ sail away for the last time. He had shouted at Elizabeth that day, when she came round wondering why he had resigned. Called her an "interfering twit, no better than the rest of them" and told her to save her time and company "for those who wished it upon themselves." He then proceeded to make toward the nearest bar to drink himself unconscious.

"Christ, Jack is that what you thought? You thought after all that we had been though, that I hated you? Were you born this socially retarded?"

Sparrow bristled. He had been carrying his own anger since he watched the harbor fade into a tiny speck on the horizon. Although he did nothing so obvious as yell and the crew, Sparrow did spend more hours locked away in his cabin than was normal for the usually sociable Captain.

"Well, ye weren't exactly bein' Commodore Obvious With His Emotions. One minute ya cursin' me, and the next -"

"Yes, yes, I get your point." Norrington snapped.

There was silence again, but this time there was no awkwardness in it, just a heavy feeling settling over the two men in the lone room.

Norrington looked upward and blinked rapidly, "I knew this would happen. I thought I had prepared for it to some extent. But I suppose you can never really prepare for something like this."

"It was always you when we were together." Jack said suddenly, "Ya was never a substitute for Will, I know that's what ya be thinkin'. But it was always you."

James stared at Jack, as if shocked by his abrupt proper use of the English language, and then swallowed hard.

"And you could have never been anyone other than Captain Jack Sparrow."

Jack cleared his throat harshly and gave James a smile filled with regret.

"Glad that was cleared up in time."

James snorted.

"No bad blood then?" Jack asked holding out his hand. James stared, rolled his eyes, and moved foreword to take it.

When their hands connected, Jack moved with all the speed that James had forgotten the Pirate possessed. While his right hand grasped James's hand, Jack's left hand grabbed the base of James's neck and yanked him down into a brutal kiss. James felt the cold bars slam into his chest and drive the air from his lungs in a gasp.

Not one to waste such a golden opportunity ("Pirate, mate." Jack leered at James as the man glared at him accusingly from his tied position on the bed) Jack slipped his tongue pasted James lips.

Jack groaned in pleasure at the feeling of familiar heat. James tasted exactly as Jack remembered – the lingering taste of that tea the English were always so fond of, a hint of sea air, and, beneath it all, the taste of what could only be described as purely James.

At the feeling of Jack's tongue against his own, James came to life. His tongue surged against Jack's in a familiar duel for dominance.

It was far from ideal. The bars made in hard to find the correct angles and their noses kept bumping up against each other. But it was as perfect as the time James had asked Jack if it was possible for his "Stop his bloody mouth for two seconds" and pulled him into a passionate kiss, full of emotions long suppressed.

James whimpered as Jack sucked his lower lip between his teeth, as they pulled apart.

Gasping for breath, they stood with their eyes closed and foreheads touching. Jack still cupped the back of James's neck, and James's hands had somehow found their way through the bars to Jack's hips.

After a while James laughed softly, "Why did it have to be you?"

Jack shrugged, "Who can say why it happens, or what it leads to."

At the sound of distant voices James's eyes shot open.

"Is it time?"

Jack nodded, "Will ya be there?"

James pulled slightly back in horror, "Do not ask me to watch this. I have seen this enough in my imagination, I couldn't bare it played out in actuality."

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but the voices appeared again – louder this time – and the rustling of keys could be heard outside the door.

Regretfully, Norrington pulled away, years of wasted opportunities in his eyes, and moved to a respectable distance from the cell just in time. The door creaked open and four soldiers in red plus the original Ensign entered. One of the soldiers held irons and chains.

Norrington did not lower his head nor look away from Sparrow's intense gaze as the soldiers opened the cell and moved to chain his wrists and ankles. Sparrow noted with wry pride that Norrington was trembling or showing any signs of outward emotion. Norrington would not be his James if he did.

"Excuse us, Com – er… Mister Norrington," The Ensign stumbled. "But we need to take the prisoner to the gallows."

Norrington almost flinched at that, but then merely nodded and turned to leave the room.

"Jamie – luv!" Sparrow called in his most patronizing tone – the soldier at his right elbow frowned at the disrespect in the prisoner's voice. Norrington half-turned at stared at Sparrow, his eyes darkening. Sparrow knew that Norrington was remembering the last time he called out that name.

Except the last time – Norrington remembered – he's legs had been clutching Jack's waist, and he had been shuddering with pleasure as Jack filled him again and again with a pressure almost too intense and not intense enough.

Sparrow held out his wrist making his chains jiggle, and Norrington started.

Sparrow grinned, knowing exactly were Norrington's thoughts had been, "We never did join hands in harmonic bliss."

Norrington raised his eyes heavenward, but moved foreword and took Sparrow's hand. He felt something metal press into his palm, but made no outward sign he noticed anything.

"Smooth sailing, mate."

Norrington's lips quirked, "To you as well."

James's forefinger caressed the underside of Jake's hand, and the touch reverberated in Jack's eyes.

Abruptly Norrington turned on his heel and strode quickly out of the room. Sparrow continued to stare after him, as if he could still see his figure standing there.

Finally, Sparrow shook his head turned toward the soldiers, "Aye, ta the gallows then mates? Wouldn't be wantin' ta disappoint the crowd."

At the gallows Sparrow stood silently as his charges where read against him. He knew this was not Port Royal, and there would be no suicidal escape plan executed at the last minute. Sparrow grinned at his mind's choice of words, his eyes scanning the crowd.

The official reading the charges finally finished, and the executioner moved foreword. Sparrow settled his shoulders and stared off into the distance.

A glare flashed in his eyes. Sparrow frowned at looked for the source of the unnatural light, as the hangman tighten the noose around his neck.

There!

James stood in the crowd holding the ring Jack had pressed into his palm so that the sunlight hit off it and reflected into Jack's eye.

Once James noticed Jack spot him, he lowered the ring and stared intently at him – making sure Jack saw him slip the ring onto his own finger.

"Does the Condemned have any last words?"

Sparrow eyes shot back to the offical and looked confused for a moment before breaking into a lopsided grin. He could feel the crowd practically leaning forward to catch the infamous pirate's last words.

Sparrow nodded, " We'll meet again, me lad. After all, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

A specific eyebrow in the crowd moved upwards.

"Never a substitute." Jack finished. Although the entire crowd had heard his words, only the ears of one man understood there meaning.

The hangman moved purposefully off to the side, and the last thing Jack saw on this earth were eyes as green and welcoming as the depths of the ocean.


End file.
